


I Want All the Light (the Sun on My Skin)

by sweeterthankarma



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, S7E5: La famille
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Tiff’s never been kissed like this.Correction:she’snever kissed anyone like this— and she was the one who made the first move, after all; the one who lurched into Max’s space, took his face in her hands and breathed in his aftershave only to let it hit her like a drug, like resolution, like bravery inhaled.
Relationships: Max Bernini/Tiffany Prigent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	I Want All the Light (the Sun on My Skin)

**Author's Note:**

> I am absolutely loving Tiff and Max so far in season 7, so of course I had to write them after the gorgeousness that was the ending scene of 7x05! Fic title comes from the song that played during their first kiss— "Mirage" by Owlle— but translated into English.

Tiff’s never been kissed like this.

Correction:  _ she’s _ never kissed anyone like this— and she was the one who made the first move, after all; the one who lurched into Max’s space, took his face in her hands and breathed in his aftershave only to let it hit her like a drug, like resolution, like bravery inhaled.

No one’s ever made her feel brave like Max does. Made her feel like a new start is not only possible with every fresh day, but with every single passing second, any given moment, however fleeting they may feel.

Tiff likes this particular moment quite a lot: Max’s lips parting against her own, the soft hum he lets out when she tilts her head and darts her tongue out towards his lower lip, the willingness with which he lets her in and then does the same right back— reciprocatory, though impatient in a way Tiff has yet to see him be until now. And he is, as always, immensely, remarkably, overwhelmingly gentle. 

Tiff will have time to muse over all the details later, wax poetic on her lonesome when Max will eventually leave and Moïra will surely try to keep her otherwise entertained and occupied. In the past, Tiff wouldn’t have minded a distraction to keep her free from the whimsical, overexaggerated teenage crushing that befalls nearly everyone she knows, most frequently Louise, but now, she’s admittedly reached an unprecedented level, especially for her own standards. And Tiff is sure Jo will want details, probably Bilal too; and Anaïs will eventually realize that Max means something to Tiff and so she’ll have to introduce them, merge friend groups that she used to believe could never even amicably cross paths (and honestly, she really can’t imagine Anaïs and Lola getting along too swimmingly when that time comes) but for now, Tiff doesn’t care. Can’t bring herself to, even if she tried.

And she doesn’t try. She just keeps kissing Max. His neck is warm under his sweater, chilly above it where the nape of his neck meets his hairline, and Tiff slips her hands down his back, loops her arms around his waist and pulls him in. He’s just as urgent as her, just as wanting, his hands gentle but unrelenting in their clutch in her hair, and  Tiff realizes another thing just then: she’s never been wanted like this.

She’s never quite wanted anyone to this extent, either. Maybe never even really wanted anyone at all, until now.

“I don’t want to wake up Moïra,” is the first thing Max says when they finally break away. His forehead dips against hers, his breath on her cheek, and Tiff laughs, feels her face hurt from grinning. Max’s hands beat her own in a movement to brush the hair away from her face. 

“I think she’s still sound asleep,” Tiff replies, her voice hushed. A reluctant twist in his arms, a brief tear of her gaze away from his eyes— somehow still bright in the dark, unwavering on hers,  _ gorgeous— _ and she can just barely see into Moïra’s room. There’s no movement, no sound, just the barely audible spin of the mobile and the constant pump of the radiator, bringing heat to the February chill. 

“I think we’re safe,” she says, exhaling, and then she kisses Max again, just because he’s still looking at her like that and there’s really nothing else for her to sensibly do at this point. Her brain is checked out, gone, all senses honing in, focusing on him, him,  _ him. _

“Yeah,” Max finally answers, breathless. His fingertips trace her jaw, her neck, settle on her shoulders. “We are.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please let me know! Comments and kudos make my day. 
> 
> Come say hi and talk to me about the Skamverse at my Tumblr blog [here](https://sweeterthankarma.tumblr.com/) or at my Twitter account [here!](https://twitter.com/sweeterthnkarma)


End file.
